


Be My Savior (And I'll Be Your Downfall)

by wherehopelies



Series: If You Want, We'll Share This Life (When Nobody Understands You, Well, I Do) [7]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Crying, Death, Don't Read This, F/F, Fire, Sadness, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, everyone is dead and everything hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: “'I’m scared, Bec,” Emily says into Beca’s shoulder. She immediately wishes the dark would swallow her words, making them disappear from memory. Beca already probably thinks she’s weak-willed and useless.“I’m here,” Beca murmurs after a long moment, her fingers coming up to settle against Emily’s neck. “I won’t leave. I promise.'”Zombie Apocalypse AU For Bemily Week Day 7- Angst. Don't read this if you hate pain.





	Be My Savior (And I'll Be Your Downfall)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. FIRE. ZOMBIES. MORE DEATH. LOTS OF CRYING. VIOLENCE AND BLOOD. sorry.

**DAY 1**

**DEADLY EPIDEMIC SWEEPING EAST COAST**

NEW YORK - On Tuesday the 24th, the White House issued a statement in response to the potential airborne virus sweeping up and down the east coast. Medical experts estimate there have been 135 deaths from “unknown but related causes” these past three days from Ottawa to Miami.

All victims appear to have suffered no external wounds, however the first sign for 110 of the dead was infected skin, ranging from rashes to blotchy pus-filled sores. Victims then began to cough blood, develop jaundice, and seemed to induce a mental catatonic state yet still had control of their own physicality.

White House correspondents urge citizens not to panic and to seek immediate medical care if they or loved ones exhibit any of these symptoms. Do not share saliva or bodily fluids with infected, and sanitize thoroughly after direct contact and exposure with someone infected.

The cause of the illness has not yet been identified. Contact authorities if you have any information.

FDA has not yet released a statement. Live updates on NYT.com.

//

**DAY 4**

**VIRUS EPIDEMIC OR ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?**

The past week has seen 279 deaths of North Americans. What began on the east coast has quickly spread inland. The White House states a deadly epidemic - but could there be more to it?

THIS BLOGGER DEMANDS ANSWERS.

After a quick Google search and a little digging into this spreading “illness”, experts at the Zombie Preparedness Institute (ZPI) have little doubt about the nature of the illness.

Two of the first to die were Arnold Judge and Martin Ginley. Both of these men worked for the government in medical research in a top-secret facility designed to create bio-weapons. See our story from three months ago on the matter HERE.

Can this be a coincidence? It seems unlikely.

Whatever Ginley and Judge were working on killed them - and spread to their families and more. Could this be another Mad Cow Disease? Swine Flu? An airborne virus set to wreak havoc on the nation? Or is it something much more ominous and deadly?

THIS NYT ARTICLE states that the victims “seemed to induce a mental catatonic state yet still had control of their own physicality.”

Victims had no control over their minds but seemed to still move and eat… sounds a little too familiar.

We knew this would happen sooner or later. For those small few following this little blog, you know what to do. Link your friends and family back to ZPI’s resource tab. Don’t make contact with the Infected. They are no longer people you know. Stock up. Weapon up. Calm down.

AND STAY SAFE.

Live updates on my Twitter @SurvivorLiz. Follow @ZPI for constant news, resources, and advice as this situation develops.

//

**DAY 11**

_“Emily? This is your mother - call me when (static) chance. Your father and I are heading to (static). Stay with the Bellas until we are able to get you. Keep your phone charged if you can. I don’t know if the power will stay on. If we don’t see you by the 22nd, make your way to Grandma’s. We will (static) there._

_Honey? I love you. I - Your father and I - (sirens)_

_Okay? STAY WITH THE BELLAS. I love you. Bye._

//

**DAY 18**

“FUCK FUCK FUCK.”

“LATCH IT, DUDE!”

“QUICK EM, THE COUCH.”

Emily pushes on the side of the couch, and Stacie quickly turns to pull on the other arm rest. It slides in front of the back door. When it’s secure, she and Beca slump on top of it.

Emily looks them over, worried. “Did you see anyone? Were you attacked? Where’s CR?”

They glance at each other and Stacie sniffles. Beca grunts. “She’s gone, Em.”

Every bit of air escapes her lungs and her face falls into her hands. “No,” she whispers. “No no no. Not again.”

She leans back against the wall and slides down it, pulling her knees to her chest.

It’s been eighteen days since the breakout. Not even three weeks. And half the Bellas - gone. Jessica and Ashley never made it back the first week. Are they Infected? Ran off? Barricaded in somewhere? None of them know. Flo and Amy never came back from a food run, so they started upping their patrol to threes instead of pairs.

But it didn’t work because now… Cynthia Rose.

How could this be happening?

Stacie mumbles something about putting the food away, but as she turns toward the kitchen, Emily sees the beginning of tears on her cheeks and her own tears come faster.

Beca slides down the wall next to her, their shoulders brushing. She sighs and puts a reassuring hand on Emily’s knee.

“I’m so sorry,” Beca whispers. “I tried to save her.”

Emily nods frantically. “I know. I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Beca’s head hits the wall behind her with a light thump. They sit there quietly for a long time, in the entranceway to the Bella house, just the two of them. Emily cries until her throat hurts.

She thinks she’s cried enough the past two weeks to fill an ocean.

//

**DAY 25**

The power starts flickering on and off every few hours until it goes out and doesn’t return.

Lilly lines the windowsills with candles and a few kerosene lamps they found in CR’s camping gear. She also gives Emily a knife, short but sharp. Emily doesn’t want to hold on to it.

It feels like an omen of even worse things to come.

//

**DAY 26**

“We’re almost out of food and the nearest stores are cleaned out.”

“But we have shelter here and almost a guarantee we won’t interact with Infected.”

Beca grunts. “That’s not gonna do us much good if we don’t have food.”

“We could go to Emily’s grandma’s. It’s almost the 22nd.”

They all look at her and she stops tapping the table with her fingers. “What?”

“It’s almost the 22nd,” Chloe repeats. “Didn’t your mom say to head to your grandma’s if if we didn’t see her by then?”

Emily nods. “Yeah.” She looks at the calendar on the wall, barely lit by the almost empty lamps. There’s big black Xes on all the days that have passed. Today is the twentieth. Has it really been that long? “She lives in Columbus.”

“Jesus,” Stacie exhales. “Can we make it all the way to Ohio?”

The five of them look around at each other, uncertain.

“We have to try,” Beca says decisively. “It’s either die out there trying to get to safety or die in here of starvation. I like our chances out there better. Plus,” she jerks her head across the table. “We have Lilly.”

Lilly’s grin is much too wide for the situation they’re in. Emily thinks that in itself might be the scariest image she’s seen in this brave new world so far.

//

**DAY 27**

They pack up everything they can carry in a light load into their school backpacks. Emily packs a hoodie and a picture of the Bellas and her phone and phone charger, though she doesn’t know what good those will be. Maybe they have power where they’re going.

Beca packs their water bottles and food and Chloe packs their warm clothes. She doesn’t know what’s in Stacie and Lilly’s backpacks. She hopes it both is and isn’t weapons.

They gather the backpacks by the door and spend the night in the living room, huddling for warmth and trying not to think about how they’re about to leave the Bella house for maybe the last time.

//

**DAY 28**

They walk along the sidewalks. It’s the first time Emily’s been out in a week and the lawns are even more unruly than before, the streets more deserted and littered with trash.

Looking around, her stomach fills with an imminent sense of dread and fear. She keeps close to Beca as they walk, hoping some of Beca’s confidence will seep into her and make her braver.

It doesn’t.

They keep to the edge of campus and away from Greek Row, none of them particularly interested in encountering a horde of frat boy zombies.

The town is quiet and they edge through it, toward the highway. Emily’s not sure if it’s a good or bad sign they don’t meet any Infected on the way. It’s definitely good for them, but maybe that means it’s bad news for someone else.

She doesn’t like that idea much, either.

They don’t really know where they’re going, so even though they can pretty much guess it’s an awful idea, they start out just walking the interstate. It’s not really filled bumper to bumper with cars like in every disaster movie, but maybe that’s because by the time evacuation seemed like the best option, there was nowhere safe to evacuate to.

They come across a few cars every mile or so, most of them on the shoulder, but some are stopped in the middle of the lanes.

Emily point blank refuses to look inside of them after one has a dead guy in it, but Beca and Lilly investigate them for supplies. They’re all out of gas and it’s clear the drivers just drove until they ran out, as if you can escape the inescapable, as if you can outrun the air.

The thought has Emily pulling her Bella scarf up over her mouth. She knows it’s not airborne, knows the saliva of the Infected has to get in your bloodstream, but the further they travel, the more nervous she gets.

She hopes her parents and grandma are okay.

When the sun is starting to sink lower in the sky, they move off the interstate. There’s a travel plaza right off the exit, big semis parked near the gas pumps and cars in every parking space.

A few Infected roam outside of a Burger King, just aimlessly wandering. Emily squeaks and holds her knife tighter in her hand.

“Stick to the outskirts,” Lilly whispers. They nod and head toward the side of the gas station. Emily’s afraid to look toward the Burger King, so obviously she can’t stop glancing over there, her eyes following every movement of the two Infected in her line of sight. Stacie grabs her arm and pulls her along faster.

Lilly and Beca peek their heads in the gas station and confirm that the coast is clear. They hurry inside and shut the door, chests heaving. Emily can hear her heartbeat in her ears.

It looks like most of the gas station has been scavenged, but it’s in relatively good condition. There’s still some stuff on the shelves. Emily grabs some gum and chews on it just to distract herself.

Beca’s quickly shoving nuts and chips and things into her backpack. Stacie and Chloe are by the coolers, noting how all the alcohol is gone but not all the Gatorade and laughing about stupid people are. Lilly’s disappeared into the manager’s office.

Emily meanders over to the spinny racks with souvenirs and random knick knacks on them. There’s magnets and phone chargers and postcards. She picks up an Atlanta Falcons keychain because her dad loves the Falcons and she just really misses her dad.

“Emily?”

She spins around at Chloe’s voice, her fingers curling over the keychain. The sharp point digs into her palm.

“Here.”

Chloe’s head peeks around an aisle. “Don’t do that. I didn’t know where you went.”

“Sorry,” Emily says. She pockets the keychain and reaches for Chloe’s outstretched hand, taking comfort in the fact that she’s not alone.

//

They finish up in the gas station and decide to head across the street to the Motel 6 that’s just off the highway. Emily hates the idea - motels gave her the creeps _before_ the zombie apocalypse - but it’s their safest bet at this point.

The electronic lock on the door is off with the power, so it opens easily. Lilly slips on ahead, all of them holding their breaths and listening for any kind of sound down the halls. They creep over the dusty carpet, flinching every time the floor underneath it creaks. Beca puts her ear to one of the room doors and nods.

Lilly jimmies open the lock and they still as the door swings open.

The room is dark and empty as far as they can tell. Beside her, Beca exhales audibly and lowers one of CR’s camping knives she’s been carrying with her.

They trudge in and close the door behind them. Emily slides down on the floor, her back against the bed, and closes her eyes. She’s exhausted.

They eat some of the stuff they took from the gas station in near silence, then split the watch and take turns sleeping. Beca and Chloe take the first, Lilly and Stacie the second.

They let Emily sleep, and she knows they’re babying her, but she kind of doesn’t care. She falls into a deep sleep the entire night, only briefly stirring when Lilly and Stacie get out of the bed and Chloe and Beca slide in on either side of her.

She feels Beca’s feet against her shins and eases back into sleep.

//

**DAY 30**

They’ve been on the road for three days, basically just moving from rest stop to rest stop before anything interesting happens.

Not that Emily’s looking for something interesting - she’s living in a constant state of anxiety and fear - but trudging along the interstate for hours at a time isn’t exactly a family vacation to Disney World.

They’re just passing a sign that says they’re 50 miles from Tennessee when they come across another group of people coming the opposite direction.

There’s three of them, two adult men and a young girl, maybe ten years old.

When they see each other, both groups halt in their tracks.

Emily stops breathing.

“We mean no harm,” one of the men drawls in a thick Southern accent. “We’re passing through on to Florida.”

Emily notices he has a gun gripped tightly in his hand, but he doesn’t point it at them.

“Us too,” Beca calls out. “You coming from up North?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How’s it look?”

The other man spits on the ground. “Like hell.”

Emily can’t stop looking a the little girl. She’s gripping tightly to the first man’s shirt, her eyes narrowed and distrustful, but curious. Her face is cut like she ran through some bushes and her clothes are ripped in places.

Emily’s heart aches.

“South’s not any better,” Beca says and the men shrug.

“We’re passing through,” the first man repeats.

Beca nods at him and they pass, the little girl turning to stare at Emily until she’s too far in the distance to see anymore.

Then they keep going.

//

**DAY 33**

They make it into Tennessee, somehow managing to avoid the few crowds of Infected they’ve seen. One of the gas stations they stop at has a solar powered radio and Lilly manages to get a staticy channel coming through.

“... _routine sweeps of major cities. The President advises everyone to remain in groups, trust one another, and head to their designated checkpoint. Again, the five checkpoints are Los Angeles, Houston, (static), -go, and Manhattan. The military has set up quarantine and lockdown zones for your safety. They will continue their (static) of major cities. The President advises everyone to remain….”_

They listen to the message on loop for a few minutes before turning it off.

“Well?” Stacie asks. “What do you think?”

Beca shrugs. “It’s on loop, we don’t even know when they issued it.”

“The closest checkpoint they mentioned would be Chicago,” Chloe muses. “We’re already kind of headed that direction.”

“My sister’s in Chicago,” Stacie breathes out. “I wonder…”

“Quarantine and lockdown zones…” Lilly murmurs. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

Beca focuses on her. “What do you think, Em?”

Emily lifts her head from where it’s resting on her bent knees. She shrugs. “I’m not sure…”

How is she supposed to know what to do? How is anyone? She squeezes the keychain in her pocket until the sharp point pokes a hole in her palm.

“Chloe’s right, we’re already kind of heading toward Chicago,” Stacie nods. “Let’s just keep going and decide when the time to split east or west comes.”

Beca opens her mouth to respond when they all hear it - a moaning from one of the aisles, growing ever closer.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Stacie hisses. “Chloe did you check the aisles?”

Beca and Lilly are already standing up, creeping toward the noise.

Emily stands up too, clenching her knife in her hand and shaking. She takes a step forward, but Stacie grips her shoulder, holding her in place. Emily looks over at her and Stacie shakes her head.

Suddenly there’s a dull thump and a screech and one of the shelves shake as something rams into it.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” she hears from the aisle and she rips herself free from Stacie, running toward the sound, her knife in her hand.

She turns into the aisle just in time to see Beca and Lilly simultaneously swinging their blades down into a body. Emily spins away, her eyes shutting instinctually.

The moaning stops.

Emily trembles.

“It’s fine,” Beca pants and a hand tugs on her arm. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

Emily peeks her eyes open and her stomach rolls at the sight of blood all over Beca’s hands. Beca looks down at them and hastily wipes them on her pants. Over Beca’s shoulder, Emily sees Lilly pulling her long knives out of the body and wiping them on her jacket.

She shuts her eyes again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Chloe whispers from behind her. They all agree.

Emily can’t stop shaking as she lets Beca take her by the hand and pull her out into the dusk.

//

**DAY 38**

The urban areas off the highway turn into farmland.

Emily thinks it’s weird how before all this went down, farms were the quiet spaces. Now they’re louder, the sound of crickets chirping and wind rattling tree branches always in the background.

They’ve spent the past two nights just off the highway, first in an empty farmhouse, then in an abandoned barn. It’s less creepy than the motels, but also colder.

She’s woken up each morning huddled into Beca for warmth, Beca’s arms curled around her in a tight grip.

It’s comforting. Emily’s finding it harder and harder to speak as the days go.

They’ve had to kill people - not _people_ , Emily reminds herself... _Infected_ \- on three separate occasions. Emily has yet to take any of them out. Her body always seizes with fear the second she sees one, and it won’t stop shaking until Beca’s pulled her away, her hand squeezing Emily’s so tight it loses circulation.

The worst was when they encountered four of them at one time. Lilly and Beca each took one themselves, and Stacie and Chloe attacked the third together.

The fourth… Emily froze as it crept toward her, her chest clenching tightly so she couldn’t breathe. She felt its ragged breath on her skin and her fingers held her knife but all she could do was stare at it, seeing a _person_ , _someone’s_ person, oh God that was a _person_ -

And then it fell, kicked to the side by a thick black boot, a knife in its brain.

“Emily?” Beca leaned over her, eyes wide with fear. “Oh God, please no, please - ”

Emily shook her head frantically, her cheeks wet. “No. I’m fine. I’m not - I’m still me. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry.”

Beca’s been clinging to her like a shadow since then and Emily can barely speak. She hates herself. Hates her pathetic heart, her weak and utter lack of willpower.

She hates that she’s _useless_ , hates that Beca feels like she needs to hold her hand, hates that she doesn’t want to let go.

They find another empty farmhouse for the night. A big one in great condition, like the owners might have just gone on a European holiday and left their big screen TVs and fancy furniture to collect dust.

They decide to stay for a few days and rest.

There are enough rooms that they all get their own, but Emily can’t sleep. She hates every creak of the floorboard and every whip of the wind. She hates the drafty air and the stillness of everything.

She sits in the dark with her eyes open, looking at the full moon out the window and trying to remember what everything used to be like… what she used to be like.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been lying there when a shadow sneaks into her room.

She jolts.

“Sorry,” Beca’s face appears in front of her, half-lit by the moon. “It’s just me.”

Emily slumps back against her pillows, her heart racing.

“Sorry,” Beca repeats. “I can’t sleep. Can I stay in here?”

Emily nods, barely finding it in her to whisper a soft, _“yeah_ ” back.

Beca crawls into bed, in just a t-shirt and her underwear, and she seems so soft and small that Emily’s heart breaks. She rolls into Beca’s side, her cheek against Beca’s shoulder, her feet finding their way between Beca’s bare legs.

Beca exhales and Emily feels it in her hair as Beca leans closer.

“I’m scared, Bec,” Emily says into Beca’s shoulder. She immediately wishes the dark would swallow her words, making them disappear from memory. Beca already probably thinks she’s weak-willed and useless.

“I’m here,” Beca murmurs after a long moment, her fingers coming up to settle against Emily’s neck. “I won’t leave. I promise.”

//

**DAY 41**

They’ve been at the house for several days. None of them want to leave, but they’re all getting anxious staying in one spot.

They decide to stay one more night and head out in the morning. They move through the house, collecting all the supplies and food they’d need.

Beca finds a metal baseball bat in the basement and practices swinging it around before carrying it with her everywhere. Lilly finds a bunch of gasoline and makes a Malatov Cocktail.

“Just in case,” she grins.

Chloe and Stacie stock up on things from the pantry: cans of soup, peanut butter, candy, trail mix.

Emily shoves the collection of tampons she finds under the sink in the bathroom into her backpack.

You can never have too many tampons.

//

**DAY 42**

She wakes to Beca jolting out of bed.

“Get up,” Beca hisses and Emily bolts up, her feet hitting the floor.

“What?”

“Time to go,” Beca says. Emily scrunches her nose in confusion; it’s still too dark.

Then she hears it - loud thumping and scraping against the side of the house.

She looks out the window and reels back in fright. At least twenty Infected are ramming themselves into the back door, trying to get into the house.

“Grab your stuff,” Beca demands and Emily doesn’t have to be told twice. She slides her hoodie and jeans on before stuffing her feet into her boots. Then she grabs her backpack and takes Beca’s hand that’s not holding the baseball bat.

“How did they - ?” Emily asks as they hurry down the hall to the other bedrooms.

“Don’t know,” Beca mutters. “Probably just do this to every house they come across.”

They get to Stacie’s room and Beca slams the door open. “Stace!”

Stacie’s head lifts up from the pillow.

“Get up, we have to leave. _Now_.”

And then she’s dragging Emily down the hall to Chloe’s room.

From downstairs, there’s a loud crack and then a thud. The scraping gets louder and Emily hears the indistinguishable moaning of the Infected.

Beca pulls on her hand harder.

“Chloe!” Beca pushes the door open, but Chloe isn’t there. Her bed is empty, the sheets ruffled like they’d been slept in. “Chloe?”

Then they hear a scream.

They whip around and Lilly’s door bangs open. She comes running past them, her giant knife held in front of her. They head back toward the stairs, Stacie quick on their heels.

“CHLOE!” Beca shouts as they leap down the bottom stairs and see her. She’s swinging wildly with a floorlamp at a few Infected, its electrical plug whipping about dangerously.

She’s barefoot, her feet bloody like she’s been running on them. That’s when Emily sees the broken glass on the floor swimming in a pool of orange juice like it’d been dropped in surprise.

Chloe hobbles back as Beca swings her bat through the air, knocking into the Infected in front of her.

“Get your shit, let’s go!” She screams, but Chloe’s in no place to run anywhere. She bats another Infected back with the lamp, dropping it when it connects with the thing’s head.

The Infected screeches and the horde of them moves forward.

Stacie stabs one in the eyeball and takes it out, but there seems to be a dozen more at least.

Lilly flings off her backpack and grabs the bottle of gasoline she’d constructed earlier.

“Run,” she mouths, and Emily doesn’t need any more prompting than that.

“Let’s go!” She screams, grabbing Beca by the backpack and Stacie by the hand.

“Chloe!” Stacie yells, reaching for Chloe, but she’s too far.

Emily squints as the bright light of hot flames engulfs the bottle. She watches in slow motion as it flies through the air, landing in the middle of the crowd of Infected.

There’s a moment’s pause -

Then it feels like the whole place is shrouded in smoke. Emily coughs and releases Beca’s backpack to pull her Bella scarf over her mouth.

“Chloe!” Beca yells, a shadow moving in the smoke. “Chloe!”

Emily looks on in horror as a figure ambles through the cloud and launches itself on Beca.

“BECA!”

She reacts on instinct, moving toward the flames and the figure and Beca. She grabs for her knife in her pocket, but it’s not there. Instead her fingers curl around the Falcons keychain.

She plunges the sharp end of it into the brain of the Infected. It turns on her and she stabs it again in the same spot. It’s slow and Emily’s not, fueled by fear and desperation.

It falls and she smashes its face in with her boot.

“Beca!” She pulls Beca up just as the couch nearest them catches fire. Beca coughs, clinging to Emily. “Let’s go!” She shouts again, and runs as fast as she can toward the front door.

Stacie’s already there, flinging it open and running into the cool night, looking back just once to make sure the others are behind her.

The three of them sprint until they’re far into the adjacent field, coughing from the smoke, their chests heaving. Beca spits blood out of her mouth and looks behind Emily with pure terror in her eyes.

Emily spins around, expecting to see Lilly and Chloe behind them, the horde of Infected giving chase.

It’s much worse.

The house is up in flames, the fire bright against the night sky. It crackles into the quiet, smoke billowing in every direction.

Chloe and Lilly are nowhere in sight. The house burns.

“No,” Emily whispers, her throat raw from smoke. “No.”

She turns around throws up into the grass.

//

They watch the fire burn the house until it’s a heaping pile of rubble and ash.

Beca tells Emily and Stacie to stay put and marches back, her back held high and baseball bat in her hand.

Emily cries until she returns, and when she shuffles back into view, shaking her head and eyes dark with pain, Emily cries harder.

//

**DAY 43**

It’s just the three of them left. They travel along the interstate in silence.

The come across an Infected and don’t even avoid it. Beca furiously swings at it with her baseball bat, hitting it across the face and knocking it over.

“I tried to save them,” she spits out. “I tried to save them.”

She jams the metal into its brain over and over again, choking on tears, and she doesn’t stop until Emily and Stacie grab her by the shoulders and pull her away.

//

**DAY 45**

“It’s better like this,” Beca whispers to her at night, the two of them huddled together in a motel bed while Stacie takes the watch. “At least they didn’t… turn. At least they just…”

Emily squeezes her hand. “At least they died themselves.”

“Yeah,” Beca exhales. “That’s all I want if I die.”

“Stop,” Emily says back, her heart breaking. “You can’t.”

Beca’s arm’s over Emily’s waist and she pulls her closer. “If I get bitten, please don’t let me become something I’m not.”

Emily rolls over so she can look Beca in the eyes. “How am I supposed to do that? I can’t even kill one of _them_.”

Beca frowns. “You did, though.”

“I was scared. I can’t - ” She feels tears prick in her eyes and _god hasn’t she run out of those by now_. “I can’t lose you,” she whispers, her voice catching on the words.

Beca stares at her, her gaze flicking between Emily’s eyes and her lips. “I won’t leave you,” she says. “I promise.”

And then she leans forward, her nose pressing into Emily’s, and touches their lips together, so carefully Emily might have imagined it if not for the lingering tingle after Beca pulls away.

“Can you two shut up and go to sleep, otherwise one of you can take the watch,” Stacie gripes from her place on the floor.

Emily flutters her eyes closed and buries her nose in Beca’s hair.

//

**DAY 48**

“Well, we have to choose. That one to Chicago and that one to Ohio.”

They’ve made it to Cincinnati. They just can’t decide where to go next.

“I think Chicago is our best bet. The chances of Emily’s family going there too are pretty high,” Stacie says.

Emily shakes her head. “If they said to meet at my grandma’s, I don’t think they’ll leave until we all meet there.”

“But we don’t even _know_ if they’re there,” Stacie argues. “Or _what’s_ there. We _do_ know at least at one point the military had a base in Chicago. We can go and then if your family isn’t there, we make our way to Columbus.”

“We might get there and not be allowed to leave once we enter the checkpoint,” Beca points out. “It’d be better to go to Columbus and _then_ to Chicago. I vote Columbus.”

They stare at each other, thinking. Then Stacie crosses her arms, her expression defiant.

“Okay, so it’s two against one?” She frowns, glancing up at the interstate signs. “I’m going to Chicago. My sister’s there. It’s the logical decision.”

“Stacie,” Beca rolls her eyes. “We’re not splitting up.”

“Okay, so you’re gonna come to Chicago?” Stacie raises an eyebrow expectantly.

Emily bites her lip. They can’t split up. They _can’t_.

“No, it’s more logical to go to Columbus first, don’t be stubborn,” Beca bites out.

Stacie throws her arms in the air. “Really Beca? Who died and left you in charge?”

Then her mouth snaps shut. All the air rushes from Emily’s lungs.

“Shit,” Stacie murmurs. “I didn’t - ” Her face falls in her hands. “Fuck.”

Beca clenches her jaw, looking like someone slapped her. She swallows thickly and squeezes Emily’s hand. “I know you didn’t mean that but fuck you.”

“Sorry,” Stacie murmurs. “But Jesus.”

“Guys,” Emily begs. “Stop. Don’t.”

They both stare at Emily before Stacie sighs and shrugs. “Look. I think we should split.”

“You can’t go by yourself!” Emily squeaks. “Stacie, you _can’t_.”

“Well, I’m not going to Columbus, so you better come to Chicago then.” Stacie gives her a pointed look and Emily’s torn, but she can’t not go to her family. What if Beca’s right and they can’t leave Chicago once they’re inside the checkpoint?

Her shoulders sag.

“Fine,” Stacie says, reading the look on her face. “Look, I’ll be fine. I’ve got Lilly’s huge knife and CR’s camping gear and my big ass brain.”

Beca grunts. “I don’t like this.”

“Tough shit, sweet cheeks,” Stacie grins. Then she sweeps Emily up in a hug. “This isn’t goodbye, so don’t look so sad. We’ll see each other again.”

Emily sniffles into Stacie’s hair. “Don’t die,” she croaks out.

Stacie laughs. “Not plannin’ on it.”

She hugs Beca after that, whispering something to her. Beca nods and squeezes her back.

Then she’s waving over her shoulder and turning down the road to Chicago.

They watch her go, until it’s just them, standing alone on the interstate, the sun slowing sinking in the sky.

“Come on,” Beca says. “Let’s find your family.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Chicago?” Emily asks, her heart feeling like it can’t take even one more ounce of pain in this lifetime.

Beca grabs the front of her jacket and gives it a tug. She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses Emily, soft and sure. “I won’t leave you,” she says. “I promise.”

//

**DAY 50**

“That one looks like a giraffe.” Emily points off in the distance.

Beca follows her gaze. “It looks like a cloud.”

“Nuh uh. And see, that one’s an airplane.”

Beca snorts. “It’s a blob of precipitation.”

Emily traces her fingers over the shapes in the sky. “Look, that one looks like a treble clef.”

Beca blinks up at the cloud. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it kinda does.”

Emily smiles over at her and it feels like the first time she’s smiled in years.

“I love you, Beca.”

Beca blushes and Emily thinks that’s so weird. How after everything that’s happened, they still have this. “I love you, too, dork.”

And she grabs Emily’s hand.

//

**DAY 53**

“This is the exit,” Emily nods. “I’m sure of it.”

They move off the interstate, the familiar shopping plaza coming into view. Emily must have driven past it a thousand times on trips to see her grandma, must have stopped at that gas station every Christmas Eve on their way to visit.

“It’s only like a ten minute drive from here,” Emily remembers. “We’re really close.”

“Okay,” Beca nods. “Let’s check the gas station out, though. We’re a little low on food and it’s making me nervous.”

“Grandma Jan always has food,” Emily says, then realizes how dumb she sounds, but Beca smiles at her, all fond and soft.

Emily’s heart crackles with love and _hope_.

Beca laughs and pulls on the gas station door and later, Emily wishes she could rewind and pause her life on that moment, caught up in Beca’s smile and that lightness in her chest. She wishes she could live there in that second, just sink in and forget what happens next.

A hand slaps against Beca’s as she pulls the door open. Beca drops her bat and stumbles backward, straight into Emily as a frenzied body hurls itself through the door.

It screeches and moans, mouth opening and closing ferociously.

Emily trips over her own feet and they both go down, the body falling on top of them.

Beca grunts and Emily scrambles to move, to do anything. She pushes Beca over and the Infected slumps on top of her, gurgling. Emily picks up the baseball bat and swings with all her might. It connects solidly, vibrating in her hands and she almost drops it as the Infected screeches again and turns toward her.

She jams it into its head again, over and over, and everything is blurry and she can’t _breathe_ and then -

The body falls over and lies still.

“Beca?” Emily pants, spinning around and reaching for Beca on the ground.

Beca’s wide-eyed and afraid, her mouth open in terror.

Emily glances down and her heart stops.

“No. No… Nonononono.” Emily rips her Bella scarf from her neck and presses it over the wound. “No, you’re fine. Beca, you’re fine.”

Beca glances up at her, horrified. “I…”

“Shh,” Emily cries, pushing harder into Beca’s skin so she can’t see the open flesh, can’t see the teeth marks on Beca’s skin. “You’re fine.”

“Em,” she murmurs, voice faint.

“Beca, _please_ ,” Emily coughs out. “No!”

Beca stares at her, eyes roaming over Emily’s face like she’s trying to commit it to memory.

Sobs heave in Emily’s chest, her throat thick and wet. “You promised,” she blubbers. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

Beca frowns and touches Emily’s hand, turning it over. Emily feels something sharp against her palm. She looks down and sees Beca’s knife, taken so long ago from CR’s camping gear.

She gasps and shakes her head furiously. “No,” she says. “I _can’t_.”

“Please,” Beca rasps. “If you love me, please do this.”

Emily can barely see through her tears. She presses her forehead to Beca’s, her whole body shaking. “I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry.”

Beca exhales against Emily’s lips. “My fault,” she grumbles. “Got careless.” Then she laughs and Emily wants to cover her ears, but she’s afraid she’ll never hear Beca laugh again. “I tried to save them,” Beca whispers, and Emily entire chest cinches tighter and tighter until she’s gasping for breath.

“I’m still here.” She touches Beca’s neck, feeling warmth under her hand.

“Take care,” Beca murmurs and smiles a little, her hand coming up to cup Emily’s cheek. The other slides over Emily’s hand, the one holding the knife, and pushes it into her own stomach with a gasp. “I love you, Em.”

“I love you,” Emily cries. “I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

She musters up as much bravery as she can and pushes the knife in further, feeling Beca’s blood on her fingers.

Beca scrunches her nose like she’s uncomfortable, then her hand falls from Emily’s cheek. She blinks up at her, soft and tender.

Emily’s not sure how long it takes for her to go. Beca is there and she’s there and she’s there and then she’s not, like the gentle fading of a sunset.

Emily cleans the knife and wipes her hands off, using her sleeve to dry her cheeks. She drags Beca’s body into the gas station, not even caring if another Infected attacks her, but nothing does.

She rests Beca away from the windows, hoping that nothing will come.

Then she stumbles out of the gas station, hands still sticky with blood. She makes her way down the familiar streets in a daze, each step harder than the next.

She’s not sure if it’s one hour or ten before she’s turning into the familiar suburb, her feet taking her down the street and up the front walk of a little grey house.

The door creaks open when Emily turns the handle and she’s not too burnt out to realize what that might mean.

“Hello,” she calls, her voice raspy and thick. “Grandma? Mom? Dad?”

There’s no answer.

She goes from room to room, peeking her head in, calling for her family, but it was clear the moment she stepped in the house. She felt it in the air.

Nobody’s there.

Emily slumps against the wall in the hallway, all alone, and cries.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm at emilyjunk.tumblr.com for all your yelling needs. (accepting free choice prompts for tomorrow/day8)


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